


Rumor Has It

by distortedreality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distortedreality/pseuds/distortedreality
Summary: Derek visits Stiles at school and the rumor mill goes into overdrive.





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the 2018 Sterek Glompfest, prompt 12 for Cap_Cass. This ended up being completely ridiculous, but I hope it checked all your boxes :)

Being a bit scatterbrained was definitely not one of Stiles’ best qualities. In fact, it was usually quite annoying. As a general rule,  Stiles’ ability to either completely forget things – or to get so distracted by something he perceived as more interesting than whatever he was doing – usually only had a negative impact on him, his friends were oftentimes attentive enough to take notice and put him back on track. And by friends he meant Lydia and Allison.

“You’re hopeless,” Allison sighed, settling into the chair next to Stiles. “Look at you. When was the last time you ate?”

“You think there’s time for eating?” Stiles asked, eyes still fixed on the book in front of him.

“There might be if you managed your time better,” Lydia said, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t you had a month to complete that paper?”

“I’ve had more important things to think about recently,” Stiles replied. His eyes were darting across the page at a speed that was far too quick for him to realistically be taking in the words.

“Going on Wikipedia binges and making out with Derek aren’t exactly what I would call more important.”

“Ah, but that’s because you’re not the one who’s been making out with Derek,” Stiles replied, dropping the book and leaning back in his chair. He looked quite pleased with himself. If Lydia was honest with herself, she couldn’t exactly fault him for it. Managing to get Beacon Hills’ resident eligible bachelor of mystery into his bed was definitely something of an accomplishment on Stiles’ part.

Allison rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone, fingers tapping quickly on the screen.

“You’re going to get sick if you don’t eat,” Lydia said. She shot Stiles a look of exasperation, which was met with a halfhearted shrug.

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” Stiles said. “Finstock will kill me if I don’t get this paper in by the end of the day. I can’t eat if I’m dead, can I?”

Lydia and Allison left him to it after that, refusing to talk to him until he went back to his paper. He wasn’t wrong; Finstock probably _would_ kill him if he didn’t get the paper in on time, and Lydia had just about enough of people dropping dead in the school’s hallways for one lifetime.

The sound of the intercom crackled loudly, startling Lydia as she inspected her nails. She’d managed to get a chip in the colour already, though she wasn’t sure how it had happened. Prada, probably.

“Stiles Stilinski to the front office,” the perpetually bored receptionist’s voice echoed through the room.

“Crap,” Stiles muttered, his eyes going wide. “You don’t think that’s my dad, do you? I was _sure_ he hadn’t seen Derek leave last night.”

“Who’ll get the honor of causing your death: your dad or Finstock?” Lydia asked, flicking a bit of dust off of her nails.

“Crap,” Stiles muttered again. He collected up his books and shoved them into his backpack. His hand missed the zipper on his pack twice before he finally paid enough attention to it to get it right.

“We’ll come with you,” Allison said. “I need to go past my locker, anyway.”

Lydia was under the impression that Stiles was a _reasonably_ excitable guy. He tended to get a bit dramatic at times, but overall he wasn’t all that ridiculous. Derek had apparently changed all that.

Entering into a relationship with Derek Hale had apparently made Stiles go completely fucking mental in certain situations, and Lydia was constantly torn between thinking it was adorable that her friend had found someone he was so happy and comfortable with, and wanting to rip his head from his body. The other half of her wanted to smack Stiles across the face and tell him to pull himself together, but she was always able to rein those feelings in. Stiles didn’t exactly subscribe to the ‘less is more’ way of thinking when it came to Derek, much to the amusement of the entire pack.

“Derek!” Stiles cried. He shoved his backpack at Allison and went tearing off down the hall, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Derek and walking up to his boyfriend oh so casually, as if he hadn’t just sprinted down the hall at the sight of him.

“Hey,” Derek said, shooting Stiles a smile. “As an apology for keeping you distracted yesterday, I brought you lunch.” He brandished a paper bag at Stiles, who took it gratefully.

“You’re the best,” Stiles said, shoving his hand into the bag and taking a bite out of what Lydia was pretty sure was a large taco. “Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”

“You might have brought it up,” Derek replied.

Lydia’s eyebrows shot up at the smirk on his face and oh _hell no_ , they weren’t alluding to their sex life in the middle of the fucking school hallway.

“Oh my god.”

Lydia glanced to her left and saw one of the sophomore girls staring at Stiles and Derek with wide eyes. She looked like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and for a brief moment Lydia was a little terrified that she’d have to do damage control because Stiles and Derek had decided to throw all sense of propriety out the window and start making out against the lockers. Upon inspection they were, thankfully, still clothed and standing a semi-respectable distance from each other.

“Did you need something?” Lydia asked, raising her eyebrows at the girl. She was in no way in the mood to deal with any leading questions about her friends’ relationship. Hell, _any_ leading questions concerning Stiles were one hundred percent _off limits_ after Stiles had asked for her help in determining where to take Derek on their first date. She’d wanted to tear her hair out after five minutes, and the fifth “but it’s not _right_ , Lyds” and the eighth “but it needs to be _perfect_ , Lydia”.

Evidently Stiles’ planned date had gone well, because he and Derek had barely left one another’s space for weeks. According to Isaac, Derek’s entire loft was basically one big ball of Stiles’ scent, and Lydia wasn’t sure she wanted to sift through what that meant.

“Is that Derek Hale?” a girl from the junior class hissed. The students in the hallway had started to congregate, glancing at Stiles and Derek out of the corners of their eyes.

“Yes,” Allison replied. She tugged at Lydia’s arm and they walked over to where Stiles and Derek were standing. They were leaning against one of the walls of lockers, far too close to be hiding what they were to each other, _especially_ when they were still attempting to keep their relationship a secret from Stiles’ dad. Fuck, the looks they were giving each other alone were enough to completely give themselves away. Lydia was pretty sure she’d only seen looks that completely gooey in Hollywood romance movies.

“I’ve got to go,” Derek said. “I’ll see you later, yeah? After you’ve finished that paper.”

“Mm,” Stiles replied. “Come to mine afterwards. Dad’s got the afternoon shift.”

For a moment Lydia thought they might actually kiss in the hallway, but Derek made do with a soft smile and a wink, squeezing Allison’s shoulder as he walked off.

“You couldn’t have made that more obvious if you’d tried,” Allison snorted, shaking her head. “There’s no way your dad won’t find out at this rate.”

“We didn’t even do anything,” Stiles cried. It was hard to believe him, considering his eyes were locked on Derek’s retreating form, and Lydia would bet her entire wardrobe that he was watching Derek’s ass. “Fuck, he’s hot. And lovely. Who said someone who looks like _that_ is allowed to be lovely?”

“Whatever you say,” Allison replied, shaking her head. “I’ll bet you an American History essay that he finds out within half a week.”

“You’re on,” Stiles said, reaching over to shake Allison’s hand.

It was then that Lydia realized that the handful of people in the hall were all staring at them, eyes darting between where Stiles was standing, taco dangling from his fingers, and Derek, who was pushing open the doors at the end of the hall to exit the building. It had taken him far too long to walk the relatively short hallway, so Lydia was fairly sure he’d stopped to look back at Stiles at some point. It was fucking ridiculous how much he and Stiles liked each other.

“What?” Stiles cried, glancing around the hallway at his peers. “Nothing to see here.”

It was at that moment that the rumors properly started.

Having been the object of gossip many times during her years at Beacon Hills High, Lydia wasn’t all that surprised about how quickly the news of Stiles and Derek’s relationship spread. After all, it had only taken a half hour after she’d been found nude after running around the woods for the details to be completely spread throughout her classmates. Aside from the obvious embarrassment that had surrounded her situation, it hadn’t even been the spreading of the news that had pissed her off; at least those were _facts_. Oh no, it was the ridiculous rumors that were spread along with them that had been the true annoyance. She’d had no idea that she’d taken up with a religious cult whilst in the woods, nor that she had been privy to some kind of government experiments that she’d apparently been a part of whilst on the shittiest camping trip ever, but those – among a whole host of other idiotic tidbits of information – had become common knowledge among her classmates at the time.

Impressively, it took a mere fifteen minutes for everyone to know that Stiles and Derek were dating. Lydia certainly understood the allure that always seemed to follow Derek around; Derek was hot, rich, older, and had that tall, dark and mysterious thing going for him. What she didn’t get was the persona that their classmates had somehow attached to Derek at the mention of him and Stiles dating each other.

“Hey, Stiles?” Allison asked, a smirk on her face. Her phone was dangling from her fingertips at she levelled her gaze at Stiles. “Since when does Derek have connections to the mafia?”

“What?” Stiles asked. “Is that the punchline to a joke?”

“In a roundabout way, I suppose,” Allison replied. “Oh, there’s a Facebook group now.”

“What are you even talking about?” Stiles asked. “Fuck, I have to finish this paper.” He yanked his books out of his backpack with enough force that they went tumbling across the cafeteria table. “Oh god,” Stiles muttered, practically throwing himself onto the tabletop in the effort to reach one that had gone particularly far. “Don’t look. Seriously, don’t.”

“Why?” Allison asked. She reached for the book that Stiles was grabbing at, before recoiling with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“ _The Joy of Gay Sex_ by Charles Silverstein. Interesting choice,” Danny said. He handed the book to a very red-cheeked Stiles with a wink. “Nice job bagging Derek Hale, by the way.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles muttered, shoving the book into his backpack with force. “What the fuck.”

“That’ll do wonders for the rumors, I’m sure,” Allison said. “Oh, it’s already on the Facebook page. Fantastic.”

“What _page_?” Stiles cried. “What’s _happening_?”

Allison snorted with laughter and turned the phone to face Stiles and Lydia. There was indeed a Facebook page dedicated to Stiles and Derek that someone had actually _spent their time_ creating. It had a photo of Stiles and Derek in the hall as the banner, the taco Derek had brought hanging half out of Stiles’ mouth.

“I’ll be it’s one of the sophomores,” Allison said, refreshing the page. “I suppose you could go to Principal Thomas about it, but there’s no way he won’t tell your dad.”

“Oh fuck,” Stiles muttered, dropping his head to rest on the table. “Why isn’t there something more interesting for people to be talking about? Surely there’s something happening in the world right now? Literally _anything_ would be better than this. I went a decade and a half without anyone giving a shit about my love life, why did they choose _now_ to start giving a fuck?”

“Do you prefer Diles or Sterek as your couple name? There’s currently a poll going,” Allison said. “I’ll vote for whichever one you like better.”

“Neither. I like neither,” Stiles mumbled against the tabletop.

“You should probably get that paper done,” Lydia said. The suggestion was extremely unwarranted, if Stiles’ exasperated glare was any indication.

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered. He had lines on his cheek from where the edge of a book had been pressed on it.

“Uh, Stiles?” Scott said as he slid into the seat next to Allison. “Why is everyone saying that you’re changing your last name to Hale? Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be … you know? Have you even told your dad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles muttered, flipping through one of his textbooks.

“Oh, he’s apparently running off to Vegas to get married after the school year is over,” Allison said in a peppy voice. “He and Derek are going to live in Sacramento. Isn’t that nice, Stiles?”

“You _do_ like Sacramento,” Scott said, nodding thoughtfully. “We could easily visit you in Sacramento.”

“I’m not listening to _any_ of you,” Stiles hissed, briefly glancing up to glare at Scott and Allison.

“Nice work, Stilinski,” one of the guys from the lacrosse team called out from somewhere nearby, resulting in a number of loud whistling noises from the surrounding tables.

“Dude, your dad’s going to kill you,” Scott said, eyes wide.

“Thanks, I’m aware of that,” Stiles replied. “I’m just thankful he has zero interest in social media, so it might take a while for him to find out.”

“Aren’t you friends with Parrish on Facebook?” Allison asked. “The rest of us are.”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, staring down at his textbook. “Fuck,” he said again, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket. “Please don’t be my dad.”

“Put it on loudspeaker,” Allison said.

“Yeah, _no_ ,” Stiles replied. “Oh, wait, it’s Derek. Hey, how are –“

Lydia snorted at Derek’s audibly confused voice. Though she couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, it was clear that something had him completely fucking baffled, which was understandable. Stiles’ cheeks got progressively redder as the conversation went on, culminating in him cutting Derek off and hanging up the phone, tossing it towards Scott with a mumbled “kill me”.

“Oh please, it can’t be that bad,” Allison said.

“The cashier at the grocery store slipped a box of condoms into Derek’s cart. She said she’d pay for them herself since he obviously needed them.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Lydia said. “That’s not too bad.”

“It was in front of my dad,” Stiles said.

“Ah,” Lydia replied, nodding. “Right.”

“Scott, I’m coming to live with you. Let your mom know,” Stiles said, deadpan.

Scott nodded and reached over to pat Stiles on the shoulder.

“Uh, guys?” Isaac said, coming up behind Scott. “Why did a girl from my history class just ask me if Stiles was part of a sex cult?”

“No comment,” Stiles replied. “Lydia, you have to help me with the stupid paper. Please, I’m _suffering_ here.”

Lydia sighed, but pulled her notes from the class out of her bag. She supposed the circumstances were indeed extenuating.

The only silver lining Stiles could apparently see on the ridiculous cloud that was hanging over the school, was that everybody was terrified enough of Derek’s apparent mafia retaliation techniques that nobody that didn’t directly know Stiles went up and asked him about Derek. They still stared at him in the hallway and added to the rapidly growing Facebook group that detailed completely untrue details about his and Derek’s relationship, sure, but they didn’t directly harass him about it. In Stiles’ book, that was a silver lining.

Finstock, apparently, had no such fear of the mafia, which they all could have guessed.

“Stilinski,” Finstock cried when Stiles rushed into class, Scott and Lydia on his heels. They were late thanks to the immovable mass of whispering classmates that had decided to stay out in the halls, eager to get a glimpse of Stiles. Allison likened them to vultures surrounding a possible kill. Stiles had been less fond of that particular association. “Get over here.”

Stiles went, and Lydia and Scott found their seats. The heads of their classmates turned to follow Stiles as he walked to the front of the class.

“They’re like one of those stalls with the rotating clown heads at the fair,” Scott hissed, and Lydia had to muffle her snort in the back of her hand. He wasn’t _wrong,_ as such.

“I have that paper you asked for,” Stiles said, rummaging around in his bag for a moment, before pulling it out triumphantly.

“Ah, good. Not what I wanted to mention, though,” Finstock said. “Now, as a person in the game myself, I thought I’d give you some advice. You know those chains you were keeping in your locker last year?”

Stiles’ mouth had dropped open, but no sound was coming out. Lydia glanced over to see Scott also gaping in horror as he realized what was happening.

“Take this,” Finstock said, handing Stiles what looked like a pamphlet. “Chains like that aren’t good for use in the bedroom, champ. Bit too heavy, too much of a mess to clean up if something goes haywire. There’s some good options in there –“

“ _Thanks_ ,” Stiles cried in a shrill voice, turning away from Finstock. He tripped over his own feet as he jogged across the classroom, catching himself on the side of Danny’s desk.

“Give me that,” Lydia said as Stiles attempted to drop into his seat, kicking out at Scott’s backpack in the process. She tugged the pamphlet out of his hand and raised her eyebrows as she skimmed the contents. “Not bad, actually.”

“Burn it,” Stiles said. “No, let’s find a witch to give it to and have _her_ burn it, or perform a curse on it, or something. Surely we can find one, they turn up here enough as it is. Why does Finstock even _have_ that?”

“Do you really want an answer to that question?” Lydia asked, handing the pamphlet back to Stiles. “You should probably keep that; it’ll go nicely with your free condoms.”

Stiles sunk down into his chair and groaned loudly.

“I’m surprised you can even sit down, Stilinski,” one of their usually quiet male classmates hissed, leaning across one of the girl’s desks to get closer to Stiles. “Or is your boyfriend not much of a man?”

“You’re an idiot if you’re saying that stuff knowing that Derek’s in the _mafia_ ,” Scott replied, leaning over Stiles’ desk.

Stiles shot Lydia a pleading look.

“Fuck, sorry,” the kid mumbled, settling back into his seat. “Sorry, Stilinski. No hard feelings, yeah?”

“Derek’s not in the fucking _mafia_ , Scott,” Stiles muttered, shoving Scott back into his own seat.

“But he could be,” Scott said, shrugging. “You never know. He does look the type, a bit.”

“Stiles, is it true that you and Derek are moving to Wyoming after you finish school?” the girl next to Lydia asked. “Oh, it’s lovely up there. Such a nice place to raise a family.”

“Sacramento, actually,” Lydia replied, shooting an exaggerated smile at Stiles. “We’re all _so_ proud.”

“Stiles Stilinski to the front office. Your father is here to see you,” the loudspeaker pronounced with a loud screech.

“ _Dude_ ,” Scott said, shaking his head solemnly. “We’ll miss you. I promise we’ll all cry at your funeral.”

“Lydia,” Stiles said, turning in his seat. “Come with me. He won’t kill me if there’s witnesses.”

Lydia shrugged and picked up her bag, watching as Stiles fumbled with his own belongings. Finstock put up zero fight to her going with Stiles, patting her on the shoulder and telling her to “keep him spry”, whatever that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, considering the pamphlet of fucking _BDSM gear_ he’d given Stiles not ten minutes before.

The sound of their shoes clicking on the floor of the empty corridor was like the ticking of a clock, according to Stiles.

“It’s counting down to my death,” he said.

Lydia rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Stiles’ forearm, tugging him to a stop. “You’re not actually going to die, Stiles. Your dad loves you.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should come up with a good cover story? Yes, good idea.”

“ _No_ ,” Lydia sighed. “Just tell him that you and Derek are dating. He might be pissed, but he’s your dad. He’ll accept it since you two clearly _really_ like each other.”

“He’ll have a heart attack,” Stiles said.

“He won’t.”

“He’ll put bars on my windows.”

“For what? I said tell him you’re _dating_ Derek, not that he’s been sneaking into your room most nights.”

“He’s been _what_?”

Lydia and Stiles both turned to see the Sheriff and Principal Thomas standing at the end of the hall. The very empty hall, which made their voices echo dramatically.

“Sorry,” Lydia mouthed to Stiles, before nudging him forward.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff said, raising his eyebrows.

“Ok, let me explain,” Stiles said, raising his hands.

“This should be good,” the Sheriff said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So, dad,” Stiles started. “Have you heard that I’m running away to get married in Vegas?” He didn’t give the Sheriff time to react, pressing on immediately. “Also, I’m part of a sex cult. Pretty fun, yeah? Well, I also bring BDSM gear onto school grounds, and am about to change my last name to Hale. Oh, and Derek’s also part of the mafia. That last bit’s important.”

“Stiles,” the Sheriff sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy, right?” Stiles said. The forced smile on his face was edging into hysterical territory. “So, keeping those _completely untrue_ things in mind, a _normal_ , healthy relationship between me and Derek – who I’m completely, ridiculously in love with, by the way – doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”

The Sheriff sighed and levelled a look at Stiles. “I was actually coming down here to make sure you were ok, because Derek told me some of the kids were saying some harsh things, and he was concerned about you. I gotta tell you kid, you might want to let him do _all_ of the talking in the future.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, nodding once. “Huh. Does that mean you’re fine with it then?”

“We can continue this discussion at home, when we’re not in the school hallway,” the Sheriff said. “But yes, Derek pleaded your case pretty well.”

Stiles nodded and shot a relieved smile in Lydia’s direction.

“That page comes down today,” the Sheriff said to Principal Thomas, who nodded.

“Back to class now, Ms Martin,” Principal Thomas said, and went back into his office.

Stiles waved goodbye to Lydia and followed the Sheriff down the hall.

“Really, Stiles. The mafia?” the Sheriff said. “You couldn’t come up with something a little more realistic?”

“I didn’t come up with it,” Stiles said. “Everyone else did. It must be the leather jacket.”

“The mafia doesn’t usually wear leather,” the Sheriff said. “Wait, is that a BDSM pamphlet?”

“Uh,” Stiles said, the sound of his footsteps quickening.

“ _Stiles_ ,” the Sheriff said.

“I can explain that too,” Stiles replied. “Also not my fault. I’d like to rehash that _none_ of this has been my fault.”

“I find it very hard to believe that your boyfriend sneaking in through your window wasn’t also your idea.”

Stiles gasped dramatically. “I would _never_.”

“Stiles, I raised you. That’s a load of crap.”

Lydia shook her head to herself as she watched them go. She hoped Allison had taken some screenshots of the Facebook page before it got taken down. She’d have to start preparing her maid of honor speech soon if she was going to have it ready for Stiles and Derek’s apparent Vegas wedding at the end of the year. She wouldn’t put it past Stiles to try for it now that the seeds of the idea had been planted in everyone’s minds. It wouldn’t be so bad if they did; they were ridiculously perfect for each other, after all. If that’s where they ended up, Lydia wouldn’t even mind the invasive leading questions Stiles was prone to asking when he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to toe the line of questionable research. She wouldn’t mind them if Derek continued to put such a bright smile on Stiles’ face. He deserved good things, after all. They both did.


End file.
